


A Cup of Joe

by AndreaLyn



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day, Liebgott serves a customer who writes little notes on his coffee cup and at first, it's the most annoying, pretentious crap. Except maybe he starts to get used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cup of Joe

“You got another message, loverboy,” Luz says, delivering the cup to the front counter.

For the last few weeks, anyone who’s on dish duty in the lobby always gets to the corner of the shop and comes back with a medium size latte (no sugar) with the rim gnawed off. It’s also got a message written on the side in neat calligraphy, the black ink sharp and graceful. At first, it hadn’t really been much. Stupid little sayings and quotes that Liebgott remembers from high school English, but then Liebgott got the bright idea to write something back one day.

So he doesn’t use the customer’s name (it’s W something. Weber or Wasser). 

Instead, he writes this quote he always remembered because it’s a good quote about how shitty life is and Liebgott has a tendency to remember those kinds of things. So he writes _The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places_ and hands off the cup without even making eye contact.

Since then, the messages aren’t so general.

Liebgott takes today’s latte in hand and inspects the waiting message.

_You always have this look on your face like you’re imagining the gruesome fates of everyone around you. Should I be worried?_

Jesus Christ, he’s got messages worried about his well-being coming from coffee cups now. What the hell has his life come to? He scowls a little harder until he thinks that Coffee Guy might be looking, which is just a reason to turn away from the customers and stare at it a little longer, not paying attention to how nice the guy’s writing is. Seriously, no one’s supposed to notice stuff like that.

He’s definitely not supposed to smile later on when he realizes that he kind of likes getting the messages. He’s definitely not supposed to look forward to his shift because he’ll get new messages, but that’s exactly what starts to happen.

Every day at two o’clock, Liebgott’s pen pal comes in and orders his medium latte with no sugar. Every day. They exchange messages and inane quotes and conversation, but Liebgott still doesn’t know his name or anything about him that’s real until the day that all changes. For a while, it’s nothing and he can walk away.

And then comes the Friday when two o’clock rolls around and Coffee Guy doesn’t turn up.

Liebgott is ashamed to say that he reacts poorly. For a while, he thinks he got stood up, which is ridiculous because it’s not like this was ever a standing date. It just happened to be that this guy liked a routine. An hour after two, Liebgott’s pissed because there’s no sight of him and he doesn’t feel bad taking it out on the customers or his coworkers.

“Jesus, what crawled up your ass?” Luz scoffs.

“Hey, Lieb,” Babe says, fumbling into his pockets. “I almost forgot. Some guy came by during the morning shift. Roe gave me this to give to you, says it’s something for you? Some kind of message?”

Liebgott eyes Babe warily, not sure whether he ought to be pissed with him for not saying something earlier or grateful that he remembered before too long had passed. Babe had a bad habit of letting things slip his mind for far too long.

He takes the scrap of paper in hand and opens it up. 

Liebgott shakes his head, holding it up. “Who the hell is David Webster?” he demands, because that’s the name written on the scrap in graceful cursive. 

Luz and Babe exchange amused looks, in on a joke that Liebgott didn’t get the memo about. He’s not exactly in the mood for this shit today, so he doesn’t bother to even ask, just doubles down on the firm glare he’s giving the both of them.

Luz claps him on the shoulder. “It’s your coffee buddy, Joe,” he finally says, taking pity on him. “Go easy on him, wouldja? Not all of us are immune to your so-called _charms_ ,” he jokes with a bright grin, heading out front to man the shop. Babe goes after him, probably scared to stay there alone with Liebgott after not giving him the number earlier.

He ought to be scared. Liebgott’s gonna figure out a nice form of revenge for making him sweat like that. Liebgott mutters that he’s taking his break, grabbing his cell phone as he ducks out into the alley to have a smoke, staring at the piece of paper with Webster’s name written on it.

He’s not even sure what to do with it. It’s not like they’re friends. Hell, they haven’t really even exchanged more than a few words, so what’s Liebgott supposed to do? Call him up and pretend they’re old buddies who need to catch up? Webster’s an asshole who leaves quotes on his discarded coffee cups. Essentially, he’s defacing trash.

So why the hell is Liebgott so interested?

The logical part of his brain reminds him that Webster’s hot, Liebgott’s had a dry spell, and hell, it’s not like he’s got a wealth of other options right now. He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth and digs out a cigarette from the pack, lighting it up while he sends off a text to the number that’s as casual as he can get without driving him away:

_got your #, now you got mine. wanna grab a drink?_

When he gets back inside, he hands Luz his phone with firm instructions to keep it from Liebgott, no matter what happens. After all, it’s not like he’s ready to become some pathetic asshole who drools over his phone and some guy who might or might not be texting him back. Still, it doesn’t mean that by the end of the shift, Liebgott isn’t eager to find out if there’s something waiting for him.

Luckily, Liebgott doesn’t have to pour grinds into Webster’s coffee tomorrow because there’s a text waiting for him.

_eight o’clock? the bar opposite the coffee shop okay?_

Liebgott types in a simple ‘yeah’ and he heads off home with a smirk on his lips, success making him feel like he’s alive. Now it’s a matter of getting home to try and scrub the damn stink of coffee from his skin so it doesn’t seem like he bathed in the stuff. And yeah, so maybe he’ll put a bit of effort into this.

It’s not like anyone has to find out.

* * *

The morning after, Liebgott’s a lot more relaxed than usual. He doesn’t bicker with the customers, moves around behind the counter with ease and grace, and when Babe spills some coffee on his arm, he doesn’t kill the kid.

“Okay, who the hell are you and where’d you put our buddy?” Luz demands, after Liebgott actually goes so far as to _smile_ at a customer.

Liebgott bites his lip, smirking away. “What are you talking about? I’m taking good advice and making sure I don’t scare people off from our fine establishment.” 

It’s funny how Luz knows him well enough that he doesn’t actually believe him, but Liebgott doesn’t feel like he needs to give up the truth just yet. He puts Luz and Babe through a few more hours of a pleasant mood before he feels like saying why. It’s lucky that he doesn’t even need to say a word because it’s two o’clock, Liebgott’s shift is over and Webster has walked in.

“Hey,” Liebgott greets him, tossing his apron over his shoulder to smack Babe in the face. 

Webster peers past Liebgott to the others, eyeing Liebgott warily. “Hi,” he greets in turn. “You don’t have to leave yet. If you still have your shift to...”

Liebgott shuts him up by grabbing his Henley and yanking him in for a possessive kiss, angling their bodies so Luz and Babe get a good look at the exact moment that Liebgott slips Webster a bit of tongue, plus they get a view of Liebgott’s hand on Webster’s ass.

“I knew he was too happy for his own good,” Luz swears, shaking his head. “This is what happens when your dry spell is so long you practically crack like Death Valley,” he says, leaning his elbows on the counter, wiping away a mock-tear. “It’s so beautiful,” he sighs. “You think this’ll last?”

“God, I hope so,” Babe replies. “I could get used to not worrying about getting my ear chewed off by incessant bitching.”

Too occupied with kissing Webster, Liebgott flips them off while gently nudging Webster in the direction of the door to get out of public view where his coworkers are definitely watching for far too long to be considered normal. 

It’s their funeral, is all Liebgott thinks. He’s not planning on stopping anytime soon and Webster’s happy little moans in reply are only encouragement as to the why of that.


End file.
